


Sunrise/Sunset

by philomel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Driving, M/M, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-05
Updated: 2011-11-05
Packaged: 2017-10-25 17:30:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/272916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/philomel/pseuds/philomel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Riddles in the dark. (The road metaphor goes ever on and on.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sunrise/Sunset

"We'll wait for the end," they say. "Then we'll start again."

The punchline is that there is no punchline.

Watch the pot and its flat sheen of water. Wait for some meaning to bubble up to the surface: a reflection of eyes backed by steel. This immobile impression belies movement. Remember what the saying said. Don't watch. Don't wait. Go, keep going.

This is the road. The choices are to stay on the road or choose another. Stay on that other road or choose the next. An infinite stretch of highway, veining the world as it's known.

This world is knowable as skin, as unknowable as the same. Touch here, and learn it. Pull off to the shoulder, pull off each layer and reveal every visible piece that jigsaws to create an unsolvable puzzle. The riddle suggests completion when puzzle ends fit together. AC/DC. Male, female. Slot A goes into Slot B. If Slot B unavailable, find Slot C, interchangeable with Slot D.

The world is an endless series of holes being made, being filled. Inevitable gravity. This clump of mud, porous and poorly held together, dirties every hand that touches it.

Two boys touch each other by the side of the road. Their unclean hands travel over skin wet with blood. Grave dirt gets in, winds its way into wounds. Limitless landmarks of scars are visited, revisited. Repairs made will be unmade. The road is rough, smooth, alternately mapped and mapless. It shifts, roads connecting; an intersection of bodies that will be gone by morning. Find it again when no one's looking for it.

When no one's looking, two boys will push life where it stalled, tow death behind them, breath like exhaust. The hollow parts of them fill with filth, sweat, water, food, sex.

And it happens again. Turn over.

"Start her up," they say, jumping ahead to the end. Two bright beams of light project forward, bathing the darkness before it swallows them down, devours the road and everything on it.

Somewhere in the darkness, eyes catch the light of a small flame flaring out of steel, reflected in eyes that watch and wait for the light to change. The same eyes, the same blood, the same course are never the same. But they always find their way. Connecting, moving, motionless to those who can't see in the dark.

The story ends in the dark. Reach out and tell me where it begins.


End file.
